When a Warrior Woos a Lass

by Julie Johnstone

  “Who did ye apprentice with?” she asked.

  “Gillis Stewart,” Alex said with no emotion. She’d have thought he had no feelings at all about the man if it hadn’t been for the brief revulsion that flashed in Alex’s eyes when he said Gillis’s name. But it was gone as quick as a blink.

  “Did he do that?” she asked, motioning to Alex’s back, which he was covering with his plaid. Was he leaving her because she was prying? She bit the inside of her cheek with frustration.

  “Aye, he did,” Alex answered in the same voice devoid of emotion. This time, his eyes displayed nothing.

  She wanted him to stay and sleep with her, yet she remembered what he had said about his nightmares and going to his own bedchamber to sleep. If he was departing no matter what, then she may as well question him and try to glean some information. “Why did he do it?”

  “To break me,” Alex said. The words were simple but heavily laden with rage. She could hear it and feel it rolling off her husband. Her heart twisted for him.

  “And did he?” she asked in a soft voice. “Did he break ye?”

  Alex stared at her for a long moment, not speaking. She could see the tenseness of his jaw and the slight flare of his nostrils. She wanted to snatch the question back. How foolish to demand her husband display his weakness to her. Yet, he’d demanded the same of her, and it had freed her. “Aye, Lena, he broke me.” The words lashed out at her like the whip that had surely been used to scar him. His eyes dulled, and she knew then that she’d pushed him too far.

  “Alex—”

  He cut her off by turning from her. “I’ll see ye on the morrow, Wife,” he said and left without glancing her way again.

  A hollowness filled her gut as she crawled into bed alone and pulled the blankets up over her. Even covered as she was by the mounds of fabric, however, she could not shake the chill that had taken root inside her. She feared that if she pushed Alex to reveal his past to her, then she would push him away, but she also feared that if she did not learn his past and try to help him, then whatever haunted him would soon darken their entire marriage.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, searching for sleep and not finding it until late into the night.

  The pain was real, ungodly, and unbearable.

  “Relent,” Gillis hissed in Alex’s ear.

  Alex jerked away, unable to do more tied as he was to the pole.

  “Give me what I desire,” Gillis demanded.

  Alex yanked on his arms to no avail, helpless rage filling him. His back burned as if a fire had been lit upon it. His head pounded, the blood hurting his ears. His mouth was so dry he could not swallow, and the hunger… Well, it had been all-consuming, painful, and gnawing until it had passed. When that happened, Alex could not say, as the dungeon was dark. But relent? The very thought made him flinch with disgust and shame. His father would kill him for crumbling and allowing such a thing, if he ever knew. Did he know? Alex’s thoughts roiled in his head, and he tried to call up an image of his father as he’d last seen him. How long had it been? The thick, misty memories were ungraspable and indiscernible. He’d been eleven summers when last he’d seen his father, and he’d just turned twelve summers, hadn’t he?

  “Ye will relent. Ye are nae different,” Gillis taunted, his face coming in front of Alex’s. Gillis’s cheeks and bulbous nose were mottled red. “I am the strongest here, MacLean. Ye may be the future laird of yer clan, but here and now, I am yer master.”

  Gillis brought his face a hairsbreadth away, and Alex didn’t hesitate. He reared his head back and smashed it into Gillis’s nose.

  A raw cry came from Gillis, but a gurgling laugh followed it. The man swiped at his face with the back of his arm, leaving smears of blood across his cheek. “I like the pain, MacLean,” Gillis growled. “I like that ye’ve fought me as hard as ye have. Say the words. Give me what I want.” When Alex shook his head, Gillis slammed his fist into Alex’s nose, his mouth, his right cheek, then left cheek.

  He awoke some time later burning everywhere. He tried to open his eyes, but it was near impossible. Somewhere in the darkness, Gillis laughed, and then a lass, who sounded like his friend Ginny, screamed. The tortured voice made bile rise in Alex’s throat, and he roared, straining against his binds.

  “Back to sleep!” Gillis commanded, smashing Alex over the head with the hilt of his sword.

  He jerked awake once more. His heavy body tingled painfully at the movement, indicating to him that he’d been out for a long while. A crack of sunlight streamed through the barred window. Sound tickled his ear, and he turned his head toward it, forcing his swollen eyes open. Gillis stood there, staring at him, a silent, wide-eyed, bruised Ginny at his feet.

  “Are ye ready to submit to me?” Gillis demanded, grinning.

  Alex shook his head and spit toward Gillis. “I’ll nae ever break,” he vowed, keeping his gaze on Ginny. He’d developed a liking for her over the last year. She was the cook’s daughter, and she had taken to secretly giving Alex sweet treats when she brought them their water after training. How did she fit into Gillis’s plan?

  He didn’t have to wonder long. Gillis snatched her up, tugged her head back, and slit her throat. Alex felt his mouth working. A scream was lodged there as he watched the blood pour out and Ginny crumble. Gillis let her drop like a spoiled sack of grain. She made horrid sounds for a moment before falling silent. Alex’s stomach cramped, and then rage dotted his vision red. He yanked on his tied hands and feet to no avail. When the blood dripped down his wrists, he finally quit the hopeless task.

  Gillis eyed Alex and pointed the bloody dagger at him. “Every day that ye deny my wish, I’ll kill someone ye care for. I think tomorrow it will be Thomas.”

  Alex awoke with a roar, sweat-drenched and fiercely enraged. He saw and heard movement at the same moment, and his mind snapped to his dream. It blurred with what he knew to be here and now, and he lunged across the room, wrapping his hands around Gillis’s neck. Blood pounded in his temples as he squeezed.

  Fingers grasped his hands, pulling and wrenching, and then nails dug into his skin. “Alex!” Lena cried out, her voice strained against the force of his effort to strangle her.

  Christ! He released her instantly, heard her stagger away, hit the wall, and gasp huge breaths. His heartbeat pounded a cacophony in his ears, but when it quieted and his breathing had settled, silence permeated the room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see Lena, her back hugging the wall, the whites of her eyes large in the shadows, and her pale hands pressed against her own neck.

  “Lena.” It was all he could get out before his voice cracked over the sorrow that threatened to consume him. He dropped to his knees, overwhelmed with the knowledge that he could have killed her when all he wanted to do was protect her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, burying his face in his hands.

  Hands touched his shoulders, and then her fingers threaded into his hair. She tugged at his head, trying to get him to look up at her. “Alex, look at me,” she pleaded. He couldn’t bring himself to do so, knowing what he’d done and how the trust that had been in her eyes earlier would likely be gone. “Please, Alex.”

  He shook his head, and then suddenly she kneeled and touched her forehead to his. “I’m nae afraid of ye, Alex.”

  Her words shot terror to his heart. He brought his head up and pulled back from her, or he tried to, at least. She grasped his neck, her fingers curling tightly around him with surprising determination and strength. “I am nae afraid of ye,” she said again, her voice sure and insistent.

  “Ye should be,” he growled. “I almost killed ye.”

  “Nay, though ye did give me quite a fright and I’ll likely have a bruise on my neck,” she said, her voice raspy.

  “My God,” he moaned, clenching his jaw and curling his fists. “Return to yer bedchamber,” he begged. “Stay away from me until morning.”

  “Shh,” she replied and brushed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Ye’re nae a mons
ter that will turn at the blink of an eye. Ye’re a man who simply had a bad dream.”

  He stared at her, awed by the strength she showed. “Ye’ve changed,” he said, pride nearly choking him.

  “Aye.” She nodded and slipped her hands from his neck to his shoulders. She pressed her cheek against his heart and placed her hands on his chest. He glanced down at the top of her head, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her but afraid she would not welcome his touch. “I need to feel ye, Alex.” She looked up at him, her gaze beseeching. “Will ye nae hold me and make me feel safe?”

  “How can I make ye feel safe after what just occurred?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Well,” she replied slowly, “ye’re nae asleep. I’m nae such a fool to linger or come into yer room if ye’re asleep again, but ye’re nae now, so…”

  He pulled her to him, needing to feel her just as she had admitted to needing him. He ran a hand over her silken tresses and hugged her to him. “Dunnae ever come into my room again when ye ken I’m having a bad dream. Do ye hear me?” She nodded, but when she did not give her promise in words, he grasped her chin and tilted her face to him. “Vow it.”

  Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “I vow I’ll nae for now, but I kinnae vow I’ll nae forever. Ye are my husband, and I want to sleep the night with ye.”

  His chest squeezed at her words and at the realization of just how deeply he was coming to care for her. Oh, he’d cared for people—his sister, Donald, his clan—but it was different. With all of them, he could keep a certain shield in place and there was never a danger of losing control, but with Lena… “I want to give ye everything, Lena, but I kinnae give ye that.”

  “Ye can,” she insisted. “Ye’re just nae ready to. But I’ll be patient, as ye have been with me, and I’ll show ye I’m braw enough to ken whatever secrets ye’re hiding.”

  Instead of answering her, because it would not be what she would want to hear, he enfolded her in his arms once more and rested his chin on top of her head. His dream was fresh in his mind, the image of Ginny’s dead face seared into his memory. He would protect Lena no matter the price, even though it meant hurting her by denying her now.

  As if she sensed what he was thinking, she climbed silently onto his lap and snuggled in his arms. And soon, his foolish, beautiful, suddenly much too courageous wife was soundly snoring. He sat for a long time, relishing in holding her as she slept. He memorized the pattern of her breathing and simply stared at her lovely face. When he felt his own eyes grow heavy, he carefully stood and moved Lena to her own bedchamber, where he laid her gently on the bed. After covering her, he departed, shutting her door, then entering his own chamber and locking his door. He had to keep the demons in, just as he always had since the day Gillis had broken him, and now he had to keep his wife out. Pain sliced his belly at the thought of it, but this was how it had to be.

  Ten

  “What happened to yer neck?” Marsaili asked, her voice low but not low enough. Lena paused with her hands in the cool bread dough and indicated the rail-thin, brown-haired woman who had been stirring the stew near the fires. The woman had stopped mid-stroke the minute Marsaili had asked Lena the question, and the woman had actually turned her body partially toward them. Lena sensed the woman was listening to them.

  Marsaili motioned to the kitchen door and Lena nodded, pulling her hands from the dough and wiping them on her skirts. A few of the women in the kitchen glanced up from their tasks to eye Marsaili and Lena with wary looks, but most simply continued what they had been doing. When the door to the kitchens closed behind Lena, and she and Marsaili had moved far enough away that she was sure no one would overhear them, she blew out a frustrated breath.

  “The women are less friendly this morning than they were upon meeting me yesterday,” she said.

  Marsaili nodded and took a seat on the log that Lena had dejectedly plopped down upon. “Aye. I overheard some of the women gossiping before ye came into the kitchens to offer yer help. Apparently, Fardley is a favorite amongst the women, and they blame ye for his punishment.”

  “I suspected,” Lena replied, kicking at the dirt in frustration. “And they should blame me.”

  “Och, nay,” Marsaili rebutted. “If that clot-heid would have released ye when ye asked him to, what occurred after would nae have.”

  “Aye, but if I had more control over the panic assaulting me, then I’d nae have responded as I did.”

  Marsaili eyed her, her gaze drifting to Lena’s neck. “Were ye besieged by more fear last night after ye went to the bedchamber with yer husband?” Marsaili had spit the word husband, and Lena knew why. As she was contemplating just what to tell her sister, Marsaili raised a fist in the air and shook it. “I will kill him for hurting ye.”

  “He did nae hurt me!” Lena hastened to assure Marsaili, though it was only half-true.

  “He did nae do that?” Marsaili pointed to the slight bruising on Lena’s neck.

  Lena’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Aye, he did, but—Sit down!” she demanded when Marsaili popped up, face red and contorted.

  “Nay! I’m going to tell Broch!”

  “Marsaili, nay!” Lena gasped and grabbed her sister just as she started away. She jerked Marsaili backward, and they both went tumbling to the ground. Lena wrapped her arms around Marsaili, who was struggling to stand, and held her tight. “He was having a terrible dream, and I came into his room. He did nae mean to hurt me!” Lena practically bellowed.

  Marsaili immediately stilled. “His room?” She turned her head to look at Lena. “He is nae sleeping in the same bedchamber as ye?”

  Lena released Marsaili, and they both sat up. “Nay,” she replied, brushing the leaves that clung to her sleeves from the material. “He is nae. He refused when I asked him to do so.”

  Marsaili gave Lena a sympathetic look. “Because of the nightmares?”

  “Aye, ’tis what he says. His yelling woke me, so I went into his room after I knocked and he did nae answer. I think he was only barely awake, and he mistook me for whomever was in his dreams.”

  “That must have scairt ye half to death!” Marsaili exclaimed.

  “Aye,” Lena agreed. “But the surprising thing is, once he released me and I was certain he was awake, I was nae fearful of him at all. I ken in my heart he would nae ever purposely hurt me.”

  “Certainly,” Marsaili said, eyeing Lena’s neck once more with a look of concern. “But he kinnae control what he does in his sleep. Dunnae that instill fear in yer heart?”

  “It does, but only because I want him to sleep next to me and I fash what will become of us if he kinnae.”

  Marsaili gaped at her. “I wish I could meet a man that makes me feel as Alex has clearly made ye feel. Alas, it will nae ever be so with my loss of innocence.”

  “I came to Alex far from innocent, and he did nae care,” Lena responded, a sense of awe filling her at how certain she was of this.

  “Yer tale is verra different from mine,” Marsaili replied grimly. “Everyone kens ye were married against yer will and yer innocence stolen.” Her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry if that sounded uncaring.”

  “Nay, ’tis fine.” And it was. It still angered her that it had happened, but it was the past and that was where she wished to keep it. She gave Marsaili a pointed look. “If a man truly loves ye, I believe he will ken.”

  “Ye’re a dreamer now,” Marsaili said with a laugh.

  Lena considered her sister’s words. “I am!” she said with a laugh of her own. “Alex has made me that way. And now I’m dreaming that I can coax my stubborn husband into revealing what haunts him so I can aid him as he’s aided me.”

  “Ye love him!” Marsaili accused, shock in her voice.

  “I care for him greatly,” Lena countered, her belly tightening and warmth filling her chest.

  “I pray to God above he dunnae break yer heart as mine was broken.”

  “Tell me of the letter,” Lena urged.

 
; “Ye will hate me,” Marsaili said.

  “Nay,” Lena assured her. “I will nae ever hate ye.”

  Tears slipped down Marsaili’s cheeks, but she quickly brushed them away. “My da wrote me that he had lied to me when I gave birth. They took my bairn and told me he was dead, but he lived. He says he did it for me, but I ken well he did it with a mind to still use me in marriage. It would have been just like him and my stepmother to marry me to an important ally and force me to be deceptive about my innocence.”

  “I’m so sorry, Marsaili. Word of such a thing must have angered ye, as well as brought ye joy. Why did ye nae share it with me sooner? Why do ye nae go to find yer bairn?”

  “Da will nae tell me where he is or who he was brought up with until I complete a series of tasks he has set before me.”

  A bad feeling settled in the pit of Lena’s stomach. The Campbell laird was a bitter enemy of the MacLeod clan, and she felt a sinking certainty that the task that had been assigned her by her father had to do with hurting Lena’s family and the king. She swallowed hard, feeling the hot burn of rage, but not at Marsaili. Lena could only imagine the clawing, desperate panic to locate her son, and she could not say there was much she herself would not do if she learned such a thing.

  “Tell me of the tasks,” she said, making her voice more of a command than a suggestion. She’d heard her brothers all do this, and Alex, too, so she prayed it would work to persuade Marsaili to do as Lena bid, as well.

  “I was ordered to learn which nobles the king intended to take castles from next and get the information to my da.”

  Lena sucked in a sharp breath.